What We Are
by thestormsinside
Summary: She's the revolution. He's the fire. And when they pull the world down, it's going to go up in flames. Bellarke
1. Not Arkers

**Set after Mt Weather, I'm making it up from there**

* * *

Clarke wasn't exactly in the mood for some pompous, stuck up fucking Sky Person to be telling her what to do. Clenching her fists, she fought to keep her expression calm, or at least blank, as the voice droned on.

"And another thing," her mother lent against the table, sighed, and ran a hand through her hair. This was her stance when she was about to say something Clarke wouldn't like. And Clarke was _not _in the mood. "The 100, and, come to think of it, more or less all the other kids around here band around you and Bellamy. We have no control." And Clarke knew. She knew what her mom was going to ask her to do, and, much more importantly, she knew there was _no freaking way. _"You have to stop that. We need control."

They were sat, or Clarke was sat, in what had become the control room. Like they were still in the Ark. But they weren't. They weren't. So Clarke rose, brushed off her pants and stared her mother straight in the eye.

"No." No flicker of surprise crossed the elders face, only a dim resignation. "In fact, there was something I wanted to mention to you," there hadn't been, but there sure as shit was now. "I want to leave. With the 100. And anyone else who wants to come. I want to go, and stop pretending that we're the same. We're not. And we're not on the Ark any more."

She left. Her mother didn't have time to reply. Clarke had to find Bellamy.

* * *

Bellamy Blake was waiting around for Clarke. He hadn't seen her all day. Not that he would admit it to anyone, but it made him tetchy when he didn't see her all day.

So when she suddenly appeared, looking like a bullet, through the crowds, he was relieved.

When she got close enough for him to see the expression in those fiery blue eyes, he was excited.

"We have to leave. With the 100. And anyone else. Not fucking mom or fucking Kane. We're not them. We have to leave." Her mane of blonde hair was lifted slightly in a breeze, and he saw once again how much she looked like a warrior.

He didn't reply instantly. He lent back against the gate with his shoulder and apprised her. Because they could do it. And they could take all the under 20 population with them. Quite a large population.

"Okay. We'll do it. Where do we go?" Not quite wanting to stunt her ideas, but hoping for that lip biting expression she got when she had to think, he was mildly dissapointed by the immediate answer.

"Drop ship. It's our place. We made it there. And it's a long way from here. Well, at least half a days walk. And then, I don't know. All I do know is that we won't be sprung upon by the grounders. We didn't break the truce, after all." There was something so blazingly determined in her face, her stance, all high chin and shoulders thrown back and spine ram rod straight. All fire.

"Right. No out right mutiny, though. We just ...?"

"We just start packing. Word will get around," Her voice had softened, now she knew she had him in on her plan. Bellamy suddenly saw that she wouldn't have done it without him, and he felt a tug in his chest. One of the ones he normally locked down incredibly well.

"Okay, I'm with you. I'll get going then," and she smiled. It wasn't a normal, open Clarke smile, but more wicked, more dancing eyes and crooked mouth. He wanted to kiss it. No. He didn't. Good.

"Thank you." Before whirling around and beginning the Ark mutiny, she touched his hand. And then dissapeared.

"Fuck you, Clarke," he muttered, smiling inexplicably, before he too went about, for the second time in his strangely short but long life, bringing life as they knew it to a halt for the Arkers.

* * *

Clarke had lied. There was one person she was going to tell. One person she was scared would be torn.

Raven was standing in her section, working on something. Wick was hovering close by, smiling over her shoulder, hand on her waist. The stance, the intimacy, made Clarke's heart shudder. But only for a second.

"Raven," the dark haired girl turned around, and pulled her 'I'm-not-smiling-with-my-mouth-but-I'm-smiling' face, and moved away from Wick, who threw Clarke a off handed grin behind Raven's back, as she stepped forward.

"What's up Clarke?" The straight forward, no shit taken attitude of Raven was comforting right now, but Clarke was still scared. So she decided the best method was just to go for it, and see what she said.

"I can't stay here. So Bellamy and I are going to go back to the drop ship, with whoever wants to come. We might not stay there, but it's a start," Raven raised an eyebrow the smallest fraction, and waited. "I was hoping you'd come. We're not really _telling _people, we're just-"

"Waiting for the word to get around," Raven was really smiling now, and Clarke couldn't tell whether it was a good thing or not. Her heart was hammering in her ears. "Man, Abby is going to be pissed. How come you told me?"

"I was scared you wouldn't want to come," the truth slipped between the lies Clarke had been building up behind her teeth, and she didn't mind that much. Raven looked shocked, opened her mouth and then closed it.

"Oh." She said at last, staring at Clarke, who stared back, waiting. Wondering. "I'm going with you, Clarke. It's still ... We're still, you know, us," and Clarke threw her arms around her neck and hugged her tight, trying not to cry.

"I'm coming too," Wick piped up from the back of the room, making both girls turn and grin, "just in case anyone was interested." Raven laughed softly, and glanced at Clarke.

"So, we're not making our packing subtle, right?" Clarke smirked, and stepped towards the door.

"Not at all. Be ready for tomorrow. I'd rather things didn't get too ugly with my mother," Raven snorted, and called out,

"She may be chancellor, but you're in charge!" Clarke couldn't help but smile a little at that.

* * *

She was in her tent. Her hair was falling over her shoulders, and she was shoving clothing, sheets, her map and various other things into a bag that had stored guns, once.

"What are you doing?" Octavia's voice held an edge of resentment. Clarke turned to her, and smiled.

"Moving out. I think I'm a little old to still be living with my mother," Octavia grinned with her big brown Bellamy eyes, and sat down on Clarke's bed, which was another sheet on the ground.

"Who're you moving out with?" Clarke couldn't help but remain a little shocked at the younger Blake's astuteness, but she moved past it and raised her brows at the beautiful girl.

"Whoever wants to come. Care to?"

"Chancellor Griffin is going to be _pissed_," meeting each other's gaze, they couldn't suppress smiling. Abby hadn't made herself popular, or popular enough, with the younger generation to overrule Clarke. And she was going to lose a lot of people, and a lot of guns, whether she liked it or not.

"I've heard that a couple of times today," the daughter admitted, and Octavia fell back on the sheet, lips half tilted up.

"So have I. Jasper seems eager to get out, and there are murmurings among the others. Doesn't look like you're mom's going to be in the dark for long," knowing that the word was getting out lightened Clarke's mood further, and she dumped the fat bag on the floor with a grin.

"Long enough for people to find out. I'm hoping we can all just walk out the gates with our bags packed, and no one can stop us then," Octavia stood up, clasped Clarke's arm, and made for the exit.

"I think you're really brave, doing this. Because we're way too grounder for them, and they would have tried to shut down your command eventually. You're doing the right thing," they looked at one another again, with mutual understanding. "I'm going to go pack!"

The confidence Octavia showed in her moved Clarke more than she had expected, and she stood for a second in her empty tent, feeling the weight of her decision, pondering how the loss of her mother would affect her. In the end, she knew that it wouldn't be that much.

"So, people know now," the other Blake disrupted her, again, from her thoughts, and she turned to Bellamy to find him straight faced but teaming with excitement. The world was at their feet.

"Great. How many?" Bellamy moved into the tent and tilted his head,

"A lot. I've had at least 20 come up to me to ask if it's true that we're leaving, and then tell me they're going to get their stuff together. If we're lucky, we could move out tonight," Clarke nodded,

"Going at night isn't a good idea. But I think we should tell people to be ready by first light, so we can get out as early as possible. Mom and Kane are still going to go mental when they find out, no matter how many people we've got," the grave tone of her voice made Bellamy frown, but she smiled at him.

"Go spread the word around people you're sure are coming. I'm just going to walk around, and make sure the ones we _want _to know know. Any others we'll just have to deal with,"

"Just having to deal with things is something we do a lot," Bellamy sighed, and they walked out into the gated area of the fallen Ark. The instant they appeared outside together, passing kids glanced their way. Monty walked straight up to them.

"Is it true?" He was looking a Clarke, mainly, and she nodded. He assessed her mutely and then asked, "when are we going?" Clarke smiled at him.

"First light," now he nodded, and strode away.

"He'll tell people we'll want to take," Bellamy judged, watching the figure weaving through bodies.

"I know. We'll be fine,"

"Like always,"


	2. She's Revolution

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

It was dark, and clear. Nights on Earth had become biting, and it was cold in Clarke's tent. Sitting up from her bed (now just a sheet on the ground, with no covering) she peered through the impenetrable darkness at the figure of an irate Kane. For fucks sake.

"I was _trying _to sleep." She snapped back, pushing herself off the hard ground. In reality, she had a grudging respect for the second in command. He had stood by her, when she had most definitely been right. But he should know he couldn't stop her. He was an idiot if he didn't know.

"You're leaving? With other kids?" Kane took a step closer, and Clarke felt a mild pang of surprise at the frantic expression on his face. Staring down at her with wide, scared eyes, she couldn't tell whom he was afraid for: the group leaving or staying.

"Yes." He opened his mouth to speak, and she ran quickly over his words, with an authority not many would question. "And don't try to tell me I can't do it. The Grounders won't attack my group, and you forget I've been here a lot longer than you," he winced with a crease of the brow, and glance away. Always a sharp shot, mentioning the fact that the all knowing, all powerful adults had dropped a bunch of under 18's on a hostile, unknown world to fend for themselves. Kane pulled away, pressed a hand to his forehead.

"I know," voice low, stance defeated, he looked almost imploringly at the chancellors daughter, who regarded him with a mixture of pity and degradation. She couldn't bring herself to feel bad for leaving. The people who came with her, she would protect like she always had. But the ones being left behind ... They weren't her problem.

"We're leaving at first light. Everyone coming is bring their weapon. Don't try to stop us, Kane." Turning away, she sat back on the floor, back to him. Tiredness wasn't anywhere in her body, but she knew she had to sleep. She had to be alert, tomorrow.

"I won't. What about Abby, Clarke?"

"My mom floats traitors. No matter who they are. I don't think she'll have that much sympathy for me," there was a swish, the sound of Kane leaving the tent.

Darkness was rife. She could hardly see two feet in front of her. Lying on the cold, hard floor, Clarke's mind swirled. Images of her father, laughing, dancing with her on his feet spiraled through the air around her, and she could almost hear the laughter in the night. And them, Wells. Wells as a little boy, grinning. Wells as a teenager, playing chess, beating her, letting her win. Wells as a member of the 100, no longer a child, not quite a man. Wells who let Clarke blame him for her mothers betrayal, to keep her family together. Wells dead. Wells gone. After him, Finn. These images stung in a way only a freshly sliced wound can, and Clarke gritted her teeth against them. Because Finn smiled at her, and laughed, and sat in a car drunk on old scotch. But after, he shot and he killed and then he was killed, by her.

She rolled over, squeezed her eyes shut. In her head, Octavia was beaten to a pulp on the floor, and hugged her after she saved Jasper's life. She kissed Lincoln, and faded into Raven. Who glared at her, screamed at her, knelt over Finns body like a pilgrim. Who hugged her, told her not to die.

And, Bellamy. He strode through her visions, gun at side, eyes the colour of earth and warmth and home blazing like a beacon. Stance tall, face scratched up. Scratchy voice down the radio line telling her there were kids in Mt Weather. Round hands against her arms, around her back.

Clarke fell asleep. She dreamt of revolutions, were the people who they'd lost came back to fight with them. Against who, she didn't know. Before she awoke to the morning light, she saw herself, next to Bellamy, watching the dead return to the graves, and heard his voice,

"We'll be fine, like always,"

* * *

The gathering was huge. Not everyone was holding bags, but all the 100, and quite a few others, were. Bellamy scanned the crowd, watching the expressions change from excited, to nervous, to angry.

"What right do you have to take our kids away from us, when we've just got them back?" A burly looking man stepped forward, toward the gate where Clarke and Bellamy had convened. He tried to step in front of her, hand on holster, but Clarke pushed it gently down and met the man with a red face and clenched fists calmly.

"We won't make anyone join us!" She projected her voice, and the camp fell silent. Bellamy smirked, a half twitch of the lips, at the power emanating from this one little fire ball of girl. At the corner, slightly separate, of the crowd, Abby was watching her daughter in what appeared to be awe. Bellamy wondered if she was jealous, because she knew she'd never have that kind of power. "And we won't leave anyone who wants to come with us!"

Around her, people moved back, to form a ring. As if preparing for some kind of fight, Clarke tilted her chin up, straightened her spine. Slowly, the people coming with them split away from the main group, and went to stand around Bellamy, behind Clarke.

"We were sent here, before any of you. We're not Arkers, anymore. We're not sky people. I'm sorry. Truly. But if you're child wants to come with us, who are you to stop them. Who opposed the council that dropped 100 of us on the ground when it was for the good of the many?" A collective gasp ran out, and Bellamy stepped up too. In the low, but harsh, morning light, they looked invincible, the pair of them. Deathly angels of war, beautiful and powerful. Terrifying.

"We're leaving. Don't follow us," looking down at her, Bellamy was rewarded for a sparkle of the unearthly eyes, and then she turned on her heel and marched up to the gate, which slide open before her without so much as a whimper from the crowd. He followed, excitement igniting in his chest, and the rest of their group streamed out after them, the tail to the comet. Octavia moved ahead, close to his arm.

"You too are a power couple and a half," she quipped, lips tilted up far more liberally than his ever were, but with the same angle. Raising a brow, he glanced down at her,

"A what?"

"Power couple. You know, scary as fuck pair of kick ass leaders. What will we do if you ever have kids?" Clarke glanced over her shoulder at this comment, and Octavia had the nerve to wink. The blonde widened her eyes but smiled, amusement flickering over her face like a long forgotten memory. Bellamy's stomach tightened a notch.

Behind them, a chatter was spreading through the trees like fire. The group walked loosely together, freedom under the wings, and they were fearless. Something akin to pride bubbled in him, but it was aimed more at the girl striding ahead, his sister now at her side, Raven weaving her way towards her. He hung back, watching.

"Thanks for this," a younger kid, a guy, hovered beside him long enough to blurt the words, and the shot away again, but Bellamy felt the weight of it. What had they done, he and Clarke? Had they saved a whole generation from living, trapped, once again inside the confines of a floating ship, only now with gravity? The 100 had tasted freedom, and then they had not. But some of these people hadn't at all, and he stopped to gaze around at them. Moving like they belonged. Walking with confidence over the uneven ground.

When he started walking again, he caught Clarke looking back at him, a swift smile, and a whirl of spun gold.

* * *

They stopped, and stopped again. More than three times they heard people calling from behind the group, and Clarke would turn to see five or six more people running towards them, clutching bags, panting.

She would watch them, their original big group surging together through the trees, parting to let her advance on the new comers. Bellamy would step up beside her, and they would walk side by side, eyes trained on them.

It happened again. She was not tiring, but many were. If time was still a working concept, they had been walking for about three hours. The youngest among them, some not yet fifteen and accompanied by older siblings, were flagging. Bellamy was beside her, Octavia, Lincoln, Raven and Wick close behind. It was crossing her mind to call for a pause, knowing they were a good while away from the drop ship.

"I can hear someone!" The voice she recognized as Jasper's called out, and there was a general halt in the march. Kids swarmed together, and Clarke turned, finding the big, dark ringed eyes as he stepped out. Jasper held her gaze, straining to catch the words on the wind.

"Hey!" So soft she almost thought she imagined it in the stillness that had evolved, Clarke caught the words fleetingly, and was going to disregard her senses until Jasper quietly asked,

"Hear it?" Nodding, she looked up at Bellamy, who glanced between her and Jasper, and shrugged.

"May as well wait until they catch up, we've got some stragglers," nodding her consent, Clarke motioned to everyone around them to be quiet, but whispered,

"You can sit," which was received by some heavy sighs of relief. Jasper, followed by Monty, walked up to join them, and they stood in a sea of kids who spread out around their feet, like they were the sun that couldn't be parted from.

"Hey!" Again the call came, and this time Bellamy looked up, hearing it too. Clarke was scanning the trees, wondering vaguely how many more would join them, and if at the end of it there would be anyone left on the ark. She decided quickly that she didn't care.

"Aren't you tired?" Bellamy pulled her from her revive with his question, all soft eyed and crinkled forehead. He lent slightly forward, and spoke gently. Jasper and Monty were talking, eyes directed at a girl on the floor with dirty blonde hair and piercing grey eyes.

"No," she replied steadily, taking a moment to read his expression before looking back out away from the group, trying to find the new comer. It was a talent she had picked up but rarely let onto, being able to read Bellamy Blake like an open book. Something told her that if she made it obvious, he would shut her out in true Blake style. Right now, she knew, he was just concerned about getting everyone to the drop ship safely, and he knew that to make it there they both had to be strong.

"Sure? You could sit down. We might be here a while, and I can keep watch," glancing back up at him, she allowed herself a twisted smile, before answering,

"Maybe you should princess, grab yourself some beauty sleep," shock made the boys cheeks flush red, and his eyes drop to the ground, but he grinned. Slow, like blood through water.

"Damn it, Griffin, did you just make a joke?" Laughter felt scratchy in her throat, but she laughed anyway. Now loud or brash, but a short, pleasant sound.

"You're going to have to admit your position of power some time, and take the role accordingly Bellamy, so - there!" Grabbing his arm, she pointed through the trunks at the running figure, waving an arm. Jasper stepped back, in front of her, and muttered,

"Clarke, I think we have a problem. That's a guard," a tingle seeped through her bones, and she released Bellamy and pulled out her gun. At this gesture, many of the surrounding group rose, and drew their weapons. The guard was now clearly visible, and Clarke wove through the thicket of people to meet him.

Bellamy was at her side, once again, a defensive stance where his chest was facing her but he was looking directly at the man, who had slowed to a walk and was coming closer and closer.

"Clarke?" Raven's rich voice was by her ear, and then a gasp. "Shit, Clarke, what are we going to do?"

"What we have to," the girls made eye contact, and the blonde clasped the brunettes hand momentarily. "Please, try to keep them calm," Ravens head dipped, and she moved back.

"Hey,"

He was in front of them. Red faced, sweat on his brow. Ark guard uniform covering his frame. Bellamy's gun was aimed at his chest. Slowly, he raised his arms.

"What do you want?" Clarke realized her voice was sharp, and cracked like a whip, but she didn't care. No matter what this man said, she knew she wouldn't take him with them.

"I want you to come back," the truth in his deep voice made Bellamy shift beside her, but she discretely pressed the back of her hand into his lowered one.

"No."

"The camp is almost empty. Only older people remain. You've taken able hunters, doctors, knowledge about the ground we hadn't learnt yet. Please -"

Once again, she felt the simmering rage that was encouraged by these stupid fucking people. It made her step forward, directly into the mans space. It made her spit,

"You should have learnt. You should have tried." It made her turn away, knowing the rest would follow.

"Why are you doing this?" The man begged, but his words were directed at Bellamy.

"Don't you get it? She's the revolution." Was his steely reply, before he was hot on her heels.

* * *

**My lovelies, this song (Midnight Moon by Oh Wonder) sums up this story for me, and I listen whenever I'm writing!  
**

**Anyway, love you all for your favs and follows, and my first review! I'm trying to check out all your writing too, because love 3**


	3. The Ghosts Come Walking

Walking, Bellamy decided, was his least favorite Earth activity. His legs were aching. They were now moving at half the pace they had started with, as people jostled around, looking for water, food.

The only person who didn't seem to be flagging was Clarke. If anything, she'd picked up the pace suddenly, and seemed to be on high alert.

"What's she looking for?" Raven murmured, and he started. Having been totally engrossed in the sway of the blondes body as she moved over the ground, he hadn't noticed the girl creep up to his shoulder. When he looked down at her, Raven quirked an eyebrow, but he ignored her.

"I don't know," was the terse reply, and it got a roll of the eyes.

"Funny. You two seem almost connected, you get each other so much," but he disregarded her, once again. Clarke had paused, brushed her slender hand along a trunk, where there was the hole from a gun shot. He knew what she was doing, now.

"She's working out where we are. She knows we're close," Raven grinned, mouth splitting wide as she tilted her head back to look at the freckled face. Bellamy had to consciously try not to blush as he returned the gaze.

"Connected." She repeated, to his dismay. It made his stomach turn, because he knew it was true. There was something so fitting, about him and Clarke. But not like that. They just worked together. Leaders. Nothing else. Good.

"Whatever, Raven. We'll be there soon, go find your boyfriend," he snapped, but lightly. There was no venom. She bumped her shoulder into his forearm, and smirked,

"Don't be jealous that I'm getting some and you're all strung out," and walked away. Looking back after her, Bellamy nearly plowed into someone else.

"We're here," Clarke's voice sent a small tremor through his spine, and he pushed the dark fall of hair off his face before looking down at her. She was smiling, a far too knowing look in her eye. But Clarke knew everything, so there was never an absence of that.

"Right. How near?" He shifted his gaze, sweeping them through the trees. He was trying not to look at her, but also wanted to know how she knew. He couldn't see anything familiar.

"There are bullet holes in the trees. Down there, there's some red earth smudged along them. I did that before we left," her voice was constricted, and Bellamy felt something tug in his chest. They were going to the place Finn gave himself up. Where they strung up both Murphy and himself. Where they buried Charlotte. Wells. Clarke's shoulders were tensed, her back turned to him. The rest of the group was catching up, a nervous light chatter running between those who had been a part of the 100. The others looked confused, and uncomfortable. Bellamy rested a hand against her shoulder, and squeezed. She smiled.

"It'll be okay. We don't have to stay there for long," this got a more confident nod, and she looked up at him from under her lashes.

"We won't. I know we'll be okay," an unspoken 'we've got each other' hung there, and every time she had said 'I need you' wiped out any doubts he had about this plan.

"We've got each other," the words slipped out, but for once he needed to be the one to say them. She twitched her lips up, and turned to face the pausing group.

"We're nearly there," voice projected loud, chin high, stood in a patch of light where the sun filtered down between the trees, Bellamy had to wonder if she meant to choose the best places for speech making, or if she could just make anywhere the best place. In reality, it didn't matter. "For those of you among the 100, we've fought battles there. We buried our friends there. There, we were grounders!" She paused, eyes darting to his face, stealing his long forgotten words from a frightened night in the past and pulling them, full of hope into the present. "We're going back to who we were, but better. Stronger. We can survive." A cheer went up, the 100 moving forward, Raven and Jasper and Monty and Octavia surging to the front, eyes gleaming, powered by Clarke's unstoppable energy.

"As for the rest of you, you get a new start. You're one us now. If you want to go back to the Ark and be Arkers, then go now," when there was no movement, not even a twitch, a grin warmed her face. "Welcome to the 100,"

It was like she'd flipped a switch in all these tired, not-children-anymore-kids. Ever since Mount Weather there had been something off, like something had been taken from all of them. But Clarke was offering up a fresh start.

As she turned again and walked purposefully towards what was going to be 'home', Bellamy caught a glimpse of a shadow across her face, the grin falling away and a marred expression flickering in to replace it. Matching her pace, he watched her as discreetly as possible, a realization washed over him like a tsunami: Clarke was lying.

Clarke was exhausted, and broken, and losing control. And she was lying beautifully to these kids, taking them away, being a strong hero, a leader. The guilt he himself had been pushing off his shoulders, saving up for when he could let his brave face slip, was just as heavy on hers. Thoughts of Tondc wavered in his mind, and he guessed that maybe her weight was worse.

Maybe she felt his eyes on her, maybe she just knew he would be looking: Bellamy couldn't guess. But Clarke turned then and gave him the most blazing look he had ever felt. She didn't smile. Her mouth was in a thin line. It was those fierce eyes, eyes like the sky. She turned them on him and they seered his bones from head to toe, and Bellamy Blake wondered what the hell he was ever going to do if he lost this girl.

The dropship wall came into sight, and excitement seemed to buoy the kids up. Clarke paused, and let Bellamy walk in front of her.

"It's your baby," she whispered as he passed, and he had to resist the urge to bump his arm into hers. He strode in, and saw the remnants of the place so many had been captured. No wonder she didn't want to walk in here. She had been kidnapped from here.

"We're back, bitches," Octavia crowed, sarcasm lacing her tone, and the kids of the original 100 laughed, Lincoln giving the Blake's a strange look as they came to stand side by side. "Where's Clarke?"

"I don't know," Bellamy raked the crowd for her, and found her, already instructing people of setting up tents and pulling sheets she'd found from her bag. "There. Taking practical control. Like always,"

"You're the dramatic one. Clarke's the one aim, you're the trigger. That's why it works," with these words and a clear, sharp glance, Octavia whirled off, grabbing Lincoln's hand and leading him to a spot by the gates, where they could come and go quickly, discreetly.

"Get a tent set up, or you wont have one," the coy voice of Raven snapped at him as she streaked through his vision, making her way decidedly to the dropship itself, arms full of equipment and metal casing on her leg glinting in the light of the late sun.

"Right. Tent," he took one last longing look around for Clarke, and found her as a blur of light, dancing between desperate kids, all reaching for her. He sighed, "talk to Clarke later,"

* * *

Clarke had made sure everyone was settled, everyone was warm, about four times. Smiles, weary and sad but grateful, met her questions and kindness. They felt like knives driving into her stomach. Fires being light in her brain.

When she saw Jasper, curled over with his head in his hands, crouching slightly behind the dropship so no one would see him, Monty sat behind, hand on his back, tears on his face, she thought she was done. For a moment, the idea of caving in, right there, on the ground, and letting out the scream that had been building up in her chest since Tondc out was so tempting. She wanted to. She needed to. Smiling was _so fucking hard_.

Because in her mind, Clarke was Finn. The things she'd done to save the many were the things he'd done to save her. Someone should stab her.

Blinking away the burning sensation behind her eyes, she walked forward. Monty looked up when he heard her coming, but didn't move to wipe his face. There was no shame in the darkness of his eyes. He smiled at her, and lifted a hand to touch his fingertips to hers briefly before dropping it again. How could she have left this boy? Kneeling, she placed her hands on Jasper's shoulder. They shook like they were breaking.

"Jasper," she managed to mutter, and pressed her forehead to his jutting out spine. The strangled sob he emitted could have killed her.

"I'm sorry," the words shocked her, and she pulled back, staring at Monty. He looked at her so sadly, with such knowledge, that it was terrifying. "You have to smile, and be brave. At least we don't. I'm sorry," she pressed a cold hand over her mouth, and dropped her head. It took a few minutes before she could look up again, the grief and guilt dancing in her vision, blinding her. She set her face into stone.

"How do I look," Monty racked his eyes over her solemnly, understanding the importance behind the question.

"Strong."

"Is it enough?"

"Of course. It's all you have to be," chills crawling over her skin, she nodded, lent forward to rest her cheek momentarily against his, feeling the warmth of the tears and the cold of the skin, and stood, and left.

Night had seeped in, and many people were sleeping. The soft sound of sobbing and night creatures lulled over the dropship, and Clarke felt strangled. After glancing around to make sure she wasn't seend n, she slipped through a gap in the fence that remained. Outside, the delicate bumps of earth where they had buried their own nearly bought her to her knees. Finn had helped dig them, and he didn't have one himself. Everything hurt. All her choices.

The one she didn't

Why hadn't she left before they got to the Ark? She could have. Maybe she should have? She didn't know. But she walked away now, gun in her belt, blackness in her eyes, feeling like she might die. She knew she would go back.

There were burns on her hands from Tondc. The same hands she'd pulled the lever with. And blood all over them. Washing them murderous. The things she had done to survive did define her. Bellamy's forgiveness couldn't fix everything.

Clarke stopped. It was a star spangled night, and she could see it through a clearing of branches, where she finally fell down. Bloodied hands hit blood soaked ground, and she screamed.

The sound was animalistic. She was alone and cold and screaming in pure agony, tears coursing down her cheeks, body aching.

"Clarke. Clarke." Hands gripped her arms, and then encircled her body. As they did the terrible sound faded away, and was replaced by half screamed sobs. There was a chest, and she was pulled into it, an arm around her waist and a hand against her head; holding her tight, holding her steady. She could feel tears dripping into her hair. "Clarke. You're okay Clarke,"

Bellamy smells like the trees in the forest, and the strange, smoky scent after you fire a gun. Bellamy smelt like home, the only real one left, and his arms felt like home, and his voice was home. As her erratic breathing subdued, Clarke wondered if she could climb inside him bones and hide away there, safe, okay.

"I was going to leave," she croaked, a gentle rocking motion taking up between them. Somehow, he had pulled her into his lap, and caved his body around her. His head rested against the top of her, and she could feel the rhythmic drip of his grief falling with hers. Her arms were bunched up against his chest, fists clenched around his shirt, face against his neck, lips to his collar bones. "I was going to leave, and I was going to kill them all. Burn those traitors out,"

"It's fine. I don't care. You didn't," the unfamiliar texture to his voice stilled her further, until her tears rushed silently into the fabric of his top and the night. He was crying, all broken pieces of Bellamy and Clarke scattered around them in dark, all terrible and bloody and bursting with sorrow. "Please don't go,"

"Huh?" Shivers echoed his words in her head, but she couldn't believe that was what he said. Bellamy Blake didn't need anyone. Bellamy Blake was a hurricane. His arms tightened around her, hand curling around her hair comfortingly.

"Please. Please don't leave me," Clarke sat up, and his eyes burnt against hear face as she looked at the freckled boy.

"I couldn't," without thinking about it, she lent forward and pressed her lips to his cheek, before standing and holding out her hands to him.

"I forgive you, if that's what you need. You're forgiven," he repeated himself, and she remembered the time she had offered him the same gift, when they were raw and the world hadn't scared their black hearts.

"I forgive you too. You're forgiven, Bellamy. Come back with me?" A smile seemed to venture around the edges of his cheeks, and the black couldn't cut off the light in those eyes.

_A long day_, Clarke thought heavily as they made their silent way back to the dropship. _A long, fucking awful day_. But as they walked, she looked up again, and caught the stars winking down at her. _I lived among the stars, _she remembered.

"We lived among the stars," she said out loud, so Bellamy could have her moment of realization too. "We lived up there, and now we live down here. We can survive anything," looking over at him, she found him staring at her hard, brow slightly creased. "But now it's time we live. Surviving isn't enough. We have to find somewhere we can live, Bellamy,"

"Somewhere we can crown you Princess," he cocked his head, and she shook hers.

"No. They don't need a princess. They need people who won't let them down, and will stop all this death. We've got to be those people,"

"Then we will. We're good at being the people they need," and then they managed a smile, both of them. It was strained, and painful, and barely ever touched the surface, but it was there's, and they had each other. Clarke felt a tiny, distant twinge of the heart as he smiled, and ignored it. They had each other, and in her mind, that's what everyone else needed.

* * *

The next morning, they would awake on the same floor, under the same pale, thin sheet. There would be total silence, as they found themselves stretched out, on their backs, a good distance from each other, fingertips touching in a bridge between their cold bodies. Clarke sat up first, and Bellamy's dark eyes followed her bodies path, hands still together.

They would make eye contact. She would smile first, softly, head spinning in the first light of the day. He would smile in reflex, heart thumping out her drug name.

It would be a moment in history. The clear beginning. We know that it all started much, much sooner than that, but no one else would. For the rest of time, this would 'it', the strange shifting point when 'it' all began.

Outside, someone would scream. Clarke would start, their hands disconnecting as she pushed herself up. Bellamy would leap towards the entrance of the flimsy structure, and the horrific world would sink it's claws into their lives once again.

But, history had a moment. A place to indicate to and say, look, here it is. Here, a very long time ago, in the new old earth, two very stubborn, equally powerful people shared a tiny fraction of a morning of little consequence, and then, all was set into motion.

* * *

**Hey, my favs! Hope you like this super long chapter, and I want to make it clear I did not just rate this M for language ... Just saying! Future chapters and what not, babies :***

**Review if you feel like it, and want me to love you endlessly xx**


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